Gemotions

The coffee shop was too loud, too bright. Sarah couldn't stand it. He was late, of course, and now he was sitting across from her, animatedly talking with the girl. She had been the first person he connected with. Now, the girl shared his rare condition.

Sarah's fingers tapped a rapid rhythm on the table. She observed the way he leaned forward, his eyes locked on the girl. She could feel a knot twisting in her stomach. He barely acknowledged her presence, except to offer a perfunctory, "How are you doing, Sarah?" before returning his attention to the conversation.

The girl's voice, light and airy, filled the space. She spoke of treatments, of support groups, of a life lived, in a way, with more ease than Sarah’s. Sarah wanted to scream, but instead, she just stared at her untouched latte, the steam curling into the air, a visual representation of how she felt.